


The Game

by ru17



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, BDSM, Forced Relationship, Kidnapping, Kink Negotiation Gone Wrong, M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Consensual Spanking, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Rape Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ru17/pseuds/ru17
Summary: Tony Stark is a self-made billionaire who has nothing but free time on his hands. He regularly partakes in a kidnapping and rape roleplay with partners he finds online, and this latest one promises to be the most realistic scene he's done yet. Which is thanks to what a believable actor this kid is... right?





	The Game

You’d be surprised by just how bored a billionaire could get.

It was a lie when people said, “money isn’t all it’s cracked up to be” or that it couldn’t buy happiness. Money had bought Tony _plenty_ of happiness. It was what came after the happiness that money couldn’t seem to fix. The boredom was a lot harder to satiate.

In the ten years since Google bought his voice-controlled personal assistant app, JARVIS, Tony had come up with all sorts of creative ways to spend his multi-billion dollar fortune. You name it, he’d done it; property investing, lavish vacations, excessive philandering, buying shit no one would ever need _ever,_ especially him. Tony had spent the past decade buying every single thing that’d caught his eye, and he hadn’t made so much as a noticeable dent in his bank account.

So naturally his tastes became more…exotic. Suddenly it wasn’t about the high-class hotel rooms, but the people _in them_ \- it wasn’t about the ivory towers, it was about the incredibly talented escorts he filled them with.

Tony discovered a whole new side of himself that completely surprised him. Maybe it was the result of going so many years without needing to work for anything, but his sexual kinks gradually became darker and darker until only one thing was able to get him off - control. Being in control of another person, having them completely at his mercy, was easily the hottest thing Tony could think of, and nothing better captured that feeling than kidnapping.

Not _real_ kidnapping, mind you - roleplay. It was a devastatingly-sultry temptress in Thailand who first suggested it, when she leaned against him in a hotel bar and whispered in his ear, “Why don’t you tie me up and carry me to your room?” Tony nearly came in his pants right there, imagining doing such a thing, following her into a bathroom and restraining her hands so he could do whatever he wanted to her. It was some of the best sex he’d ever had in his life, and it was all because he was in complete control, the whole time. Coming down from that kind of power-high had taken him _months._

And regular, “vanilla” sex was never the same, so that was how Tony ended up here, on this crappy dirt road filled with potholes and weeds, waiting for his next “client.” The freezing temperature and dreary weather annoyed him, but the weekend promised to be very fulfilling - or at least interesting - so it didn’t darken his mood too much.

The website was easily the best idea he’d ever had, second only to JARVIS, of course. After months of hit-and-misses with his sexual conquests not always being interested in his dream roleplay, Tony stopped trying to get his rocks off “in the wild” altogether and set up a website to find the perfect partners for his kink. Advertising to the BDSM community made everything a lot easier too, and thanks to that, he’d never been short on clients.

Some clients were shy newbies who only wanted an hour or two of fun, and some, like the one he was currently waiting for, were total freaks seeking to be completely dehumanized.

This guy, “John” (probably not his real name) wanted the full treatment. When they started messaging each other last week, Tony was instantly intrigued by the very similar taste in roleplay they had. John wanted things that made Tony’s mouth water just thinking about them.

The plan was for Tony to play the role of the helpless passerby, stuck on the side of the road due to car trouble. John, anytime now, was supposed to be “jogging by” in a red and gold tracksuit, notice Tony’s trouble, and stop to ask if he needs any help. The plan from there was to chloroform him (his request specifically), drive him up to the lodge outside of town Tony rented, and keep him until his mind “broke” (again, his request).

Needless to say, as a man who loved the idea of having complete control, who got off on the idea of having absolute power over another human being, Tony had been fucking sold. He told all his friends he was going on another extravagant vacation and that he’d call when he could, but not to worry if they didn’t hear from him for awhile. John, likewise, assured him he’d taken off more than enough vacation days to ensure Tony gave him the “full experience,” to have his way with him as many times as it took until he _broke_.

John didn’t even want Tony to know what he looked like. The most information he’d given him was “brunette,” which, really, was only about 80% of the entire human race. The man even wanted to make up a whole new identity, play the authenticity game, which Tony was more than fine with. Pretending this whole thing was real was what made it exciting, after all.

Tony was more than a little curious what kind of person his brunette kidnappee would be. He was bound to be more than a little interesting, given the kind of treatment he’d asked for, but Tony couldn’t help but wonder what kind of character he’d be playing. The morally-upright family man, taken during his early-morning jog before work? The stubborn young professional interrupted during his daily workout? The recovering addict trying to be a Good Samaritan, only to be punished for it?

Really, no matter who John came up with, it wouldn’t matter. The man specifically asked to be treated like a sexual object until he gave in and relinquished full control, and Tony intended to honor that wish.

His back twinged from leaning over the opened hood of his car for so long, so Tony stood and stretched, glancing down the empty road in both directions for any sign of his _victim._ The road was conveniently outside of town, secluded enough for privacy, but close enough to still have a reasonable amount of pedestrians travel down it throughout the day. No one should’ve been using it quite this early, thankfully, but there _was_ a bus stop just around the corner that was on the college route, so Tony didn’t want to linger here any longer than he had to. It would be awful if he and John had to interrupt their roleplay to explain this whole thing to the authorities.

John had told him he’d jog by within the hour, but he started feeling antsy the more time passed with no sign of the man, so Tony pulled out his cellphone and decided to send a quick text, both to pass the time, and to cover his ass.

“Almost showtime. Safeword?”

He got a reply almost immediately.

“Rainforest.” And then, “See you soon, handsome. ;)”

Tony sighed and pocketed his phone again, taking up his position of the troubled, stranded traveller and his broken-down shitty Honda that he rented just to make the game more believable. It was cold out here, on this deserted road in the early hours of the morning, and when Tony exhaled he could see faint puffs of his own breath.

And then, _finally,_ “Uh, hey, do you need some help?”

He straightened up, turning to look in the direction of the voice, and almost fucking broke character.

John was fucking _gorgeous._

It was definitely him - a brunette jogging at the right place and time - and the tracksuit, while more red and white than red and gold, _did_ have a gold foil logo on the jacket and pants, big and bold like an insignia of some kind, and mixed with the other criterias it was way too close to be a coincidence.

Tony gaped, he couldn’t help it. John had no business being on a tacky BDSM website looking for hook-ups; he was a stunningly attractive young man, short and slender, with big dark eyes framed by locks of chocolate-brown curls, falling over his flawlessly smooth skin, his cheeks and nose pink from the cold. Tony almost lost it, almost ruined the whole game by confessing that he wanted to fuck him right here, under the hood of this piece of shit Honda, but that wasn’t the deal, and Tony always endeavored to please.

“Engine doesn’t wanna start,” he said, a bit lamely, still unable to take his eyes off the boy. Maybe he was being coy by only describing himself as “brunette.” After all, what else could he say without giving away the surprise or seeming arrogant? “Drop-dead gorgeous teen-lookalike”? “Remarkably attractive, supple twink”? Yeah, probably best to just go with “brunette.”

He couldn’t help but rake his eyes over the lithe form. John looked too young to have the kind of vacation days banked up that he claimed he did, but he could be older than he appeared - lots of these younger gay men took ridiculously good care of themselves. He wanted to ask, but that wasn’t the game they were playing.

“Oh. Do you need any help?” John asked, stepping a little closer, glancing at the hood. Tony leaned more heavily against the grill of his car to hide the bottle of chloroform in his pocket. John consented, but he still wanted the moment to be a surprise. “I don’t really know anything about cars but, uh, you can use my phone to call someone, if you need to?”

“Thank you,” Tony replied, resisting the urge to make a joke about how John would be the one who needed help soon. “Kind of early for a jog, isn’t it?”

John smiled a little, straight white teeth framed by pretty pink lips. He giggled and Tony’s cock twitched, hardening. God, he was so cute. “Yeah, but I have school soon, so if I don’t do it in the mornings I’ll never summon the willpower.” He gave a youthful half-shrug, his hair slightly damp with sweat, and his dedication to the scene only made Tony want him more. “Plus, I just live around the corner so, ya know, it’s not like I was up at the crack of dawn or anything.”

“I see,” Tony said, trying not to smile too excitedly. He wanted John to take that extra step closer so he could throw him into his car and get started as soon as possible. “What’s your name?”

John blushed, so _cute,_ as if he wasn’t expecting Tony to ask him that.

“Uh, Peter.” He held out his hand to shake, so adorably polite. “Peter Parker.”

Peter, huh? A cute name, and it’d work just fine for the scene. Tony smiled, glancing around them as he took the boy’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Peter,” he said, and tugged him sharply, closing the distance between them. He had the damp cloth clamped over his nose and mouth before he could even scream. “You can call me Master.”

—

By this point, Tony shouldn’t have been surprised by “Peter’s” dedication to the scene. The kid showed up sweaty from _actually_ exercising, for fuck’s sake. If that didn’t show dedication, nothing did.

But he was still pleasantly surprised and more than a little aroused by what a fantastic actor he was. Tony suspected he was one of those gay teens who found solace in theater and drama clubs in high school, because he didn’t hold back with his performance. He could be a professional, really, with how well he faked being surprised to wake up in Tony’s rented cabin.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Tony purred, standing over the boy tied-up on the floor. “Well, actually, it’s almost night time - you slept all day.”

Peter looked at him with a confused expression, and then, _god,_ his eyes filled with so much fear that Tony almost fell over from the blood rushing straight to his cock. He tried to speak through his gag, mumbling behind the duct-tape plastered across his mouth, and it sounded so beautifully terrified and urgent that Tony had to stop himself from complimenting the fantastic act.

“You’re probably wondering where we are,” Tony said, playing along. “Well, I’ll be honest with you, we’re pretty far from home. This place is nice and secluded, and I took the liberty of stocking it up with enough supplies to last us a long, long time.” He smiled as he knelt next to Peter’s bound, trembling form. “It’s just you and me out here, pet. So I hope you’ll be on your best behavior.”

Peter’s eyes were wide, brimming with tears already, but he could see the resistance in them. He _did_ say he wanted the “full experience” - the real thing, the authenticity of being taken and turned into a toy until he likes it - so Tony was expecting more than a little push-back, and he grinned.

“I’ll make things easy and fill you in on the rules.” He stood up, made his way over to the desk by the fireplace where he left the scissors. “What I say goes. I give you a command, you obey. You don’t obey, you get punished.” He turned and smiled, thrilled by the wide-eyed fear on the boy’s face. “And trust me, you will _not_ like being punished.”

Tony grabbed the scissors and made his way back over, holding them up so Peter could see them. “If you disobey me, I’ll whip you with my belt until you can’t sit down without sobbing. If you fight me, you’ll be hobbling around on two broken legs. And if you try to escape, well.” Peter’s face went pale from the malicious grin he gave him. “I truly hope you won’t force me to go to that extreme, because that wouldn’t be fun for either of us. But keep in mind, it would hurt you much more than it would hurt me.”

He bent down and started cutting through the ropes around his ankles, leaving his hands tied behind his back. Peter jolted and raised a knee to protect himself as soon as his legs were free, but Tony easily grabbed his slender calf and lowered it, spreading them again. The boy was trembling, staring at him wide-eyed and wet with tears, whimpering slightly behind the strip of tape.

“You’re so pretty,” Tony told him honestly, and to his amazement, Peter still didn’t break character. His eyebrows furrowed into a nervous, worried look, still leaking tears, and he looked more aghast and horrified than he did flattered. Clearly, this roleplay was something he wanted for a very long time, because he must have rehearsed or practiced a lot to be this convincing.

“Be a good boy,” he murmured softly as he leaned between Peter’s spread legs, until their crotches were almost touching. “Don’t make me hurt you. I don’t want to do that.”

Peter whimpered again and turned his head away, flinching when Tony pressed his lips against the contour of his jaw. Tony let the coarse hair of his goatee gently scrape against Peter’s baby-smooth skin as he nuzzled him, peppering him with kisses, unable to resist touching him.

To have something this tantalizingly delicate in the palm of his hand was doing things to him, making his blood rush excitedly through his veins. He’d never felt like this; simultaneously in control and completely out of control all at once.

Peter had awakened something in him, a powerful helplessness he couldn’t overcome. Tony unzipped the jacket of the tracksuit and opened it up, revealing the faded tee beneath it with a dorky science pun that made him laugh. He hiked the shirt up past the boy’s collarbones, making Peter give a terrified shout beneath the tape, struggling to escape from under him. The thrashing was so genuinely horrified that Tony momentarily forgot the game, allowing Peter to almost slip out from under him, before he remembered his role and yanked the boy back down by his scruff, swiftly and sharply backhanding him to cease his struggles. Peter sobbed beneath the tape, his cheek reddening, and Tony lifted his shirt back up after it had fallen down during the skirmish, revealing that slender chest, the smooth skin of his torso.

Tony bent down and started nipping at the exposed skin, grinning as Peter gave a muffled protest and tried to buck him off. He took one of the boy’s pretty pink nipples between his lips and sucked eagerly, hardening it to fullness before he pressed it between his teeth, loving the horrified shout of pain the boy desperately made. Tony groaned, his cock twitching in his jeans, wanting so badly to just roll the kid over and _take him._

And why not? That was the game they were playing here, wasn’t it?

Mind made up, he grabbed the scissors again and started cutting through the tracksuit, ruining the pants and the old t-shirt he probably pulled out of a thrift store bargain bin. Tony’s lust only grew and swelled the more Peter’s body was revealed to him, moaning low in his throat at the sight of his miles of unblemished skin, his toned stomach, the sharp rises of his hipbones.

When the suit was in tatters and Peter was perfectly naked, bound, and gagged beneath him, Tony grinned and ran his hands all over him, basking in how unbelievably soft he was. “I’m going to fuck you, baby,” he promised darkly, squeezing the boy’s hips when he began trembling uncontrollably. “Going to use you as my personal fleshlight until you don’t know any better.”

Peter gave an indignant shout, anger and fear clear as day on his face as he planted his foot in Tony’s side and tried to kick him away, struggling violently, but Tony was quicker. He grabbed the boy’s foot and yanked him back down on his back, wrenching his leg painfully to the side, relishing in the loud whine of pain that drew from him.

“Did you already forget what I told you about fighting back?” Tony asked, lowering his voice menacingly. “I wasn’t kidding, pet. I’ll cripple you in the blink of an eye if you test me.”

Peter whimpered and forced himself to go still at the threat, looking like he completely believed him. Tony grinned again and continued his earlier ministrations of lapping at his adorable bare chest with his mouth, caressing him with his hands, grinding his clothed erection against the sensitive skin of his groin, loving the fearful little whimpers Peter made with every thrust.

“God, I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” Tony said, letting himself slip out of the game, just for a moment. “Couldn’t believe it when I saw your face. Better than I ever could have hoped. I wanted to fuck you right there in my car.”

Peter sobbed brokenly under the tape, and Tony decided it was time for _both_ of them to have some fun instead of just him. He reached down and gently stroked the skin around Peter’s cock, grinning when the boy flinched and thrashed from the ticklish feeling. Finally he closed his hand around the base of his cock and began to stroke him, up and down, up and down, just to warm him up, but to his surprise, he stayed completely soft.

A flicker of doubt crossed Tony’s mind. Maybe the game had gone too far, and the tape was keeping him from using his safeword? He pumped his cock a couple more times, confirming his fears, and then sat up and looked at the boy. Peter looked genuinely terrified, and Tony slowly reached up and grabbed the edge of the tape, slowly and gently pulling it off his mouth. A hopeful look filled the boy’s face and he immediately begged, “Please, please let me go, I promise I won’t say anything to anybody, j-just please let me go.”

Relieved, Tony almost sighed, a small smile crossing his face as he asked, “Do you know who I am?” Just to check, just to make sure.

Peter shook his head desperately. “I don’t know who you are, I don’t know w-where we are. I won’t say anything, I swear, just _please_ let me go home.”

“No, baby, I don’t think so,” Tony said, making two hot trails of tears leak from the boy’s eyes. “You’re much too pretty to give up. And I think you’ll enjoy belonging to me…eventually.”

“No!” Peter sobbed, his eyes screwing shut as his struggles renewed. “No! I don’t _want_ to! Let me go, you psycho! Get off of me and let me go!!!”

He reached down in a flash and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing threateningly as he snarled, “You will address me as Master or Sir, do you understand?” The kid only sobbed in response, gasping and coughing around the hand on his throat, so Tony used his other hand to sharply squeeze his flaccid cock, making him cry out loudly. “I _said,_ do you understand, pet?”

“Y-yes,” the boy gasped, still crying, desperately nodding his head.

“I don’t think you do,” Tony said, removing his hand from Peter’s throat. “Try again.”

“I-I understand, Sir.”

“Good enough.”

Satisfied, Tony grabbed the boy by his shoulder and hip and turned him over, pressing him into the plush carpet of the cottage’s living area, intending to take him right there, in front of the fireplace, almost romantically. Peter gasped with something akin to panic as Tony grabbed his hips and lifted his rear end up, onto his knees, until his ass was perfectly on display with that sweet crying face of his buried in the rug.

He could use his safeword if this got out of hand, Tony knew that. So he let go of his reservations and pulled the small bottle of lube from his pocket, popping the cap open with a deafening click. Peter flinched, sobbing quietly into the floor, his sweet little body trembling as Tony generously coated his fingers.

He circled his index finger around the tight, pink ring of muscle, his other hand holding the boy’s hip. “Have you ever done this before?” he murmured, almost lovingly. Peter shook his, wiping his tears on the carpet. “N-no.”

“No _what?”_

“No, S-Sir.”

“Good boy.”

Peter gasped loudly when the first finger breached him, and god, he was so fucking _tight,_ Tony had to pause and push more lube onto his finger just to make it slide in. The boy started gasping in near hysteria as Tony quickly pushed in and out, mostly just lubing him up than actually stretching him.

When Tony was satisfied with Peter’s glistening rim, the skin now reddened from being so abused (he obviously hadn’t been with a partner in a very long time if it was this hard just to fit a single digit in, and once again, his commitment to the game astonished Tony), he coated a second finger and inserted that one beside the first, beginning to gently spread them to scissor the muscle open further. Peter whined, a high note of pain that morphed into a low groan as he gritted his teeth together, and the noise was so purely pornographic that Tony took it as the provocation it was and spread his fingers even wider.

Peter continued to grunt and groan in muffled pain as Tony prepped him, until finally his sweet little “virgin” hole was properly stretched and ready for him to sink into. An almost mind-numbing amount of excitement filled him as he shucked off his jeans and liberally covered his aching, swollen cock with the lube before throwing the bottle to the side, placing both of his hands on the boy’s pale hips.

“Time to take your Master’s cock, baby boy,” Tony told him, pressing the head of his cock against his hole. “But not until you ask me nicely.”

Silence passed, only the sound of Peter’s ragged breathing and the crackling of the fireplace filling the room. Tony started feeling impatient, and rocked a little harder against his ass as he said, “Don’t make me tell you again, pet. Ask me to fuck this tight little ass of yours.”

Peter started shaking his head, desperately. “No, please, I can’t, I c-can’t - _ah!”_

He shouted loudly in pain as Tony swatted him, clean in the center of his ass cheek, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake.

“You get one more try,” he warned darkly. “Last chance.”

“No, please, please don’t make me say it - ”

Tony sighed, causing Peter to flinch, instantly shutting up and returning to crying openly into the carpet. He reached over and picked up his jeans, grabbing the buckle of his belt and unthreading it from his pants. He folded it neatly, holding the end with the metal buckle, leaving the other end an open leather strap, and then lifted it high in the air and brought it down on the boy’s reddened cheek with a sharp, loud _crack._

Peter wailed instantly, jerking and trying to struggle away, but Tony looped his free hand under his hips and held him still, bringing the leather strap down again.

“You brought this upon yourself,” he said loudly over the volume of the boy’s agonized screams. “I was more than generous. If this is the only way you’ll learn your place, then so be it.”

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry - !” Peter shrieked as he brought the belt down again and again. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I swear I’ll be good, just please sto-op!”

“I’ll stop when you obey me,” Tony said, striking him twice more, the skin of Peter’s ass a dark, bruising red. “You know what you need to say, pet.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, p-please - ” he screamed again as Tony hit him with the strap, _hard._ “Pl-please, Master, please g-give me your…your…”

“My what?” Tony prompted, holding the belt up high and pausing. “What do you need, baby boy? Say it.”

“Your…your…c-cock.” Peter broke off with a sob, his whole body trembling like a leaf. “Please give me your cock, M-Master.”

“Good boy,” Tony said, and dropped the belt, returning his hands to hold the boy’s hips. He pressed his rockhard erection flush against Peter’s tight little hole and moaned. “Such a good boy, pet. You’ll learn. It’ll take time, but you’ll learn.”

“Please,” Peter begged.

“Shh, I know, sweetheart. I know.” Tony wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and slowly began feeding the head into Peter’s ass, inch by inch. “I know what you need, Master will give it to you.”

Peter sobbed loudly, but it broke off and became a near-silent, punched-out gasp as the head of Tony’s cock popped in, nice and easy, spearing him open wider than he ever had been. Peter writhed and groaned loudly from the pain, stuffing his face into the rug to hide his desperate sobbing, and Tony drowned the sounds out with his own errant moans as he began bucking his hips. He thrusted wildly, chasing the incredible feeling of finally being inside this gorgeous creature, biting his lip to try and keep himself from coming too soon.

“Oh god, baby, you feel so good,” Tony moaned, his hips shuddering with every thrust. “I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna stuff you full of every drop of my come, and then you’re going to thank me for it.”

Peter shook his head against the floor, wiping his tears on the rug. His defiance was adorable, his performance completely amazing. Tony fucked him like the toy he wanted to be, holding his hips to keep his fuckhole in place as he thrusted in and out again, and again, and again. He could feel the boy’s body going lax, surrendering, and it only made him fuck him harder, utterly using the boy for his own pleasure.

He felt his climax approaching and began bucking his hips harder, his hands leaving deep indentations in Peter’s pale skin. “Gonna come, sweetheart,” Tony promised in a blissful moan. “Fuck, you feel so good. Your ass is sucking me in, it’s so hungry for my cock.” Peter let out a loud, anguished sob, shaking his head profusely. “It’s gripping me so tightly I can hardly pull out, it doesn’t want to let my cock go.”

Tony grinned at the full-body tremble that shook Peter’s body, knowing that was exactly the kind of dirty talk the boy wanted to hear. He kept thrusting, no mind at all for Peter’s comfort, until finally his orgasm hit him and he spilled rope after rope of thick, hot come inside the boy’s body. Peter whined, the heat no doubt uncomfortable in his abuse, raw passage, but his gluttonous comeslut of a body sucked up every drop as Tony finished blowing his load.

The man collapsed on top of him, panting and layered with sweat. Peter dropped flat on the floor under the weight, and for a moment, Tony was content to let them lie there and bask in the first of what would be countless “rape sessions” between them.

—

Tony should not have been surprised by how much Peter liked the belt.

Really, the boy asked for the “real deal;” he asked to be enslaved, brainwashed, disciplined, etc. So Tony shouldn’t have been surprised that every opportunity to disobey was taken, that the boy would always push the boundary of misbehaving right until Tony beat his ass, only to fall weakly into sobbing submission afterwards.

Not that he wasn’t enjoying it. Peter cried so prettily, his big brown eyes shining with tears as Tony struck him over and over again. It was the most beautiful sight, that debauched little face. If Peter hadn’t specifically requested before they met for Tony not to take pictures, he would have, just so he could remember that gorgeous face forever.

He did have to keep the boy gagged most of the time, though. Peter had a habit of screaming, of piercing Tony’s eardrums with his high-pitched, desperate calls for help. The man assumed it was his way of asking to be gagged, using his role to his advantage, so he happily obliged. He had just the perfect thing for it, after all - a wide o-ring he strapped around the boy’s mouth to keep it open and spread, ready for his Master’s cock.

Tony kept him like that often, pretending to work at his desk or watching TV on the couch, or lounging in bed with a nice book. He kept the boy’s hands bound behind his back and his mouth spread wide by the gag, Peter’s face flush against Tony’s pelvis, his cock buried in the boy’s throat, often not even hard, just warmed by that perfect mouth. It was his way of teaching the boy obedience and patience, how to be good and still and wait for his Master’s orders.

Peter was learning. Slowly, mind you, as mentioned before - he still needed the belt several times a day before he’d obey certain orders. His ass was painted in a beautiful splattering of blue and purple bruises, adorning his cheeks and the slim backs of his thighs. Tony was always able to admire his work, as when he did allow the boy to wear some form of clothing, it was always something humiliatingly feminine that did more to accent his lithe body than to cover it.

It was only a few days before he had the boy waiting on him. Peter would wait on his knees for an order, head bowed in the perfect picture of submission. At night, Tony would attach his collar to the foot of the bed, letting Peter curl up on the rug in front of the fireplace, his ankles and wrists bound. During the day he would serve Tony the way a perfect slave would, quietly and without complaint, unless the man was delivering some new, foreign command - like the first time he made Peter ride him, bouncing on his cock with each roll of his hips, which ended up being an extremely painful affair for the boy as Tony had to spend half an hour tanning his hide first in order to make him do it. Peter only had himself to blame, and the man made sure he knew that.

It took a few weeks, but Tony was starting to believe that the game was winding down to an end, Peter finally giving in to his chosen role. The beatings came less and less, until they were only happening once a day, and Tony decided that one final test would determine whether or not the game would be over.

He had always properly restrained Peter whenever he needed to use the bathroom, which was the only time he required privacy during the game. He would chain him to his familiar spot at the foot of the bed while he did his business, ensuring that Peter could not run while the door was shut. But today would be different. Today, Tony instructed Peter to go clean himself up in the shower, to prepare himself for the big day his Master had planned, and while the boy was in the bathroom with the door shut, Tony removed his keys from his pocket and took the battery out of his car’s key fob, before he placed them on the coffee table in front of the couch, in a very obvious and hard-to-miss spot. Then, he sat and waited for the boy to emerge from the bathroom, and when he did, Tony let the test begin.

“Come here and kneel down, pet,” Tony said, smiling in approval as the boy obeyed, walking forward and kneeling down beside the couch, his head bowed. “You took a while, so Master just needs to use the bathroom before we can start playing. I want you to stay right here and don’t move a muscle, do you understand?”

Peter nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for Tony.

“Tell me you understand your order, pet.”

“I’ll stay right here and I won’t move, Master,” Peter said meekly, not raising his eyes. Tony smiled and lightly petted his hair as he stood, allowing his shin to bump against the coffee table as he walked past, making the keys on top of it rattle. As predicted, Peter looked up at the sound and stared wide-eyed at the keys, which didn’t bode well for the game coming to an end, but Tony decided to let it play out, in case Peter wanted to experience that particular part of the fantasy.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door all the way. He let himself actually take a piss, not at all concerned regardless of what Peter chose to do - his car had one of those keyless engines, so without the batteries in the fob, Peter wouldn’t be able to start it. There was a chance he would just take off on foot, but Tony planned to intervene before that could happen. He didn’t particularly feel like running through the woods, even if a chase scene _would_ be quite a bit of fun.

Sure enough, by the time Tony went to flush, he heard the unmistakable sound of a car door slamming outside the cabin. Tony immediately left the bathroom, bolting out of the cabin in the perfect show of “vengeful kidnapper,” hollering once he saw Peter in the driver seat of the car, furiously trying to start it. “PETER!”

Peter looked up and saw him in the rearview mirror, his eyes wide and hysteric with fear. He started slamming the start button on the dashboard, stomping on the gas pedal for all he was worth, already sobbing and begging desperately. “Please! Please start, please, god, come on, come on, _come on_ \- !”

Tony ripped open the car door, letting a look of complete rage take over his features as he grabbed the boy and hauled him out of the seat. The boy hit the ground painfully, kicking and screaming, still naked, and Tony began dragging him by his arm back to the cabin, his grip tight on the boy’s arm.

“NO!” Peter screamed, thrashing, putting up more of a fight than he had since he came here, even on that first night. It was so believable it made Tony’s stomach roll. “No! You son of a bitch! Let me _go!_ I won’t do it! I’m not your toy and you _can’t_ control me anymore!”

“Really?” Tony asked, knowing the tone of his voice was absolutely chilling. “You think you’re not a toy?”

Peter thrashed, violent and furious, and Tony threw him with all his strength down on the floor of the cabin, taking advantage of the boy being winded by it to go and grab his rope.

“I didn’t want to do this, Peter,” Tony said, and that part wasn’t a lie. This wouldn’t exactly be fun, and while he had precautions set up to ensure it wouldn’t be _fatal,_ the idea still greatly unnerved him. “I wanted to cherish my little obedient cockslut like the good boy he was. But if you still need to learn your place, I’ll show you _exactly_ how much of a toy you are.”

He knelt down and tied the boy’s hands behind his back, before securing his ankles together. Peter’s anger had dissolved back into rightful fear, his eyes already weeping copious tears.

“Please, p-please - ” he begged, heaving sobs. “Don’t, I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I just got scared, I didn’t mean to, please - ”

“It’s too late for that now, pet,” Tony said, leaving the boy crying in the middle of the floor as he walked over to the bed. “If my toy isn’t going to behave…I’ll have to put it away for a while.”

Tony watched the boy go very still, trying to crane his head to watch him as he got on his knees and started pulling a large, metal trunk out from under the bed. The boy watched him with wide, uncomprehending eyes as Tony dragged it over to him and opened it, before bending down and scooping Peter into his arms.

He didn’t say a word to Peter as he lowered him into the trunk. Peter was confused, at first, but the moment he went to close it on him, realization sparked in his mind and Peter began struggling, trying to sit up, screaming bloody murder.

“NO! NO, PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T!” He begged, wild and panicked, fighting Tony to stop him from closing the lid. “PLEASE! ANYTHING BUT THIS! I’LL _DIE!”_

Not responding, Tony shoved Peter down against the floor of the trunk and slammed it closed, locking it. The whole thing shook with the force of Peter’s struggles, his screams hardly dulled at all, seeping out through the row of ventilation holes drilled into the side.

Tony then dragged the trunk back over to the bed, and before he slid it back under, he fetched the little device he made purely for this scenario and affixed it to the top. The device was small, ipod-sized, and it stuck to the top of the trunk easily, turning on and connecting to Tony’s mobile phone. Tony pulled his phone out and opened the app he made, pleased to see the device working - when he opened it, it revealed Peter’s frantic, erratic heartbeat, like a monitor.

With that done, Tony pushed the trunk under the bed where it was _put away,_ just like he said. He added one more final touch of turning on a small, wireless speaker he brought, connecting that to his phone’s app as well so he could hear Peter shout his safeword if he wanted to, before gathering his necessities, placing the battery back into his key fob, and exiting the cabin.

Immediately, Peter’s voice filtered through his phone, no longer the shaky, panicked breaths he was making before. “W-wait…” the boy begged, tearful and terrified. “Wait! Master! Master, come back, _please!_ Don’t leave me here! PLEASE, GOD, DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!!!”

It took a few minutes for Tony to calm the guilt and anxiety that filled his stomach. He sat in his car and reminded himself that this was consensual, that Peter _wanted_ things to be real, and scary, and dark, and that if it became too much, all he had to do was use his safeword. He was the one really in control, not Tony, which was exactly how it _should_ be.

Tony waited a few more minutes until Peter’s hysteric screams levelled out into heaving sobs, and then he started the car and drove away from the cabin, heading back to the lodge so he could rent another cabin nearby, the closest available, while Peter suffered through his punishment.

The point of it was to dehumanize and traumatize the boy, but Tony kept his phone on and his app open the entire time, volume always loud enough that he could hear Peter’s voice, whether he was shrieking or whispering. He rented a cabin only two minutes away from the one Peter was kept in, and other than a single errand run for necessities, Tony stayed nearby and ready at a moment’s notice to sprint back to the other cabin and free Peter if he used his safeword.

But the boy didn’t. And by the end of the second day, Tony genuinely started to wonder if there was something seriously wrong with his kink partner.

The only solace he had was the heartrate monitor app on his phone showing him the kid was alive, and the sound of Peter’s broken, begging voice pleading for help, screaming at times, until finally he was completely silent save for his sobs and shallow, tear-filled breaths. After nearly twelve hours of Peter not making a sound, and no end to the game in sight, Tony finally relented and went back to the cabin, ready to end the punishment.

He could hear Peter’s frantic hyperventilating as he pulled the trunk out from under the bed. He was quick to open it, ignoring the way his heart constricted when he took in the sight of the boy. Peter flinched under the light, turning away from it, hiding his face, silently babbling against his own shoulder in a sobbing mantra too quiet for Tony to pick up.

Tony dragged the trunk to the bathroom where he started a warm bath, preparing to clean Peter up from the mess he made. He started, first, by lifting the boy and sitting him on the toilet, fetching him a large glass of water and holding it to his lips as the tub filled. “Drink,” he commanded, his voice gentle. “Slowly.”

Peter obeyed, wordlessly. His eyes were dull, his entire complexion pale and lifeless. He drank the water without complaint, then let Tony pick him up and place him in the warm bath, gently cleaning him until every inch of his body was squeaky clean. Peter didn’t react or show any emotion whatsoever, until Tony cut his wrists and ankles free, and then he surged forward and buried himself in the man’s chest, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he cried, clinging to Tony desperately. “I’m sorry I was bad, s-sorry I was a bad t-toy. I’ll be good from now on, I promise. I’ll b-be a good toy. I’ll do whatever Master wants. Just please, _please_ don’t put me away again.”

Relief flooded Tony immediately. Peter was still playing the game. He really _hadn’t_ gone too far. The boy wanted this, this dehumanization, this kind of abuse. It was okay.

He allowed himself to hold Peter gently as he slipped back into his role, continuing the act. “You belong to me, Peter,” he said, comforting the small boy. “I own you, and if you don’t please me, I won’t want you anymore. Now you know what will happen if I don’t want you.”

“Please,” Peter sobbed, pressing his wet face into Tony’s shoulder. “I want to please you, Master. I’ll do anything. Please don’t put me away again. Please. _Please._ ”

“If you’re a good boy, I won’t,” Tony promised him, pulling him away from his chest so he could cup his cheek and caress him gently. “If you behave, like the obedient little toy you are, I’ll keep you out and play with you all the time.” He leaned in and kissed him, soft and gentle, letting his tongue lightly swipe against Peter’s beautiful pink lips. “I want to play with you, baby. You’re Master’s gorgeous little fleshlight, all ready and willing to take my cock. Do you want my cock, baby? Do you want Master to fill that tight little ass of yours up with his hot come and then let you clean him off with that sweet little mouth of yours?”

Peter’s eyes went wide, but for the first time, not with fear. Anticipation, maybe, but more than anything, he seemed to be soaking up Tony’s affection, his kind words, his praise. He nodded eagerly, rolling his forehead against Tony’s, craving his touch.

“Yes, Master,” he begged, so sweet, so needy. Tony’s cock was already painfully hard. “Please give me your cock. I want it.”

—

It took more time and energy than Tony realized he was capable of to turn Peter from an unwilling captive into an obedient servant, but it was undeniably worth it in the end. After the trunk punishment, Peter showed a level of devotion to Tony that completely blew away his wildest expectations and fantasies, and for the first time in years, Tony was achieving orgasm not because of a kidnapping roleplay, but from a consensual cock-worshipping roleplay.

Because that is what Peter became - a cock-worshipper. His greedy little fleshlight wanted to make damn sure Master never wanted to throw him away, because he doted and waited on Tony in ways he had never experienced, not even as a handsome, single billionaire. Peter needed more comfort after his last punishment; he often gazed up at Tony with wide, pleading eyes, begging to be held and petted, and Tony no longer had the resolve to refuse him. Peter was the cutest thing he had ever seen, and he was more than happy to hold the sweet thing in his arms and kiss and caress him, especially when it inevitably led to Peter begging so, so prettily for his Master’s big cock.

Peter wore what Tony provided for him without complaint, and nothing made the man harder than slipping those outrageously short shorts up the boy’s slender legs, kissing his exposed tummy where his crop-top didn’t cover it, and then fastening his red and gold collar, engraved, _property of Tony Stark,_ around Peter’s pale, thin neck.

Today was finally the day, the end to the game. Peter was his, well and truly his, a devout and broken little toy who only existed for his Master’s pleasure. That was the stopping point they agreed on, so that meant today was the day Tony finally took John home.

John didn’t say anything as Tony ushered him into the car. It was hard to tell what kind of expression the young man was making, but he leaned closer to Tony’s side as they began the drive home, and the man took that as John being just as sad that the game was ending as he was.

When they at last pulled up to the same stretch of road Tony picked him up on, he pulled over and stopped the car, waiting for John to get out.

But the young man simply gazed at him, confused and maybe even a little nervous. Tony couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face - still so dedicated to the game, right till the end. Playing along, he stepped out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door and helping the boy out of his seat.

“This was fun, kid,” he said to him. “I hope it was everything you wanted. I’d be happy to do it again. I’d even take you out to dinner sometime, if you wanted.”

Peter stared at him, transfixed and bewildered. “Master?”

Laughing, Tony leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, kissing the boy tenderly. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn cute.” He kissed him, once, twice, three times, just because, just because he wanted to. “You’ll always be my perfect little toy. I’ll miss you so much.”

The kid looked horrified as Tony pulled away, mouth parted in mute shock. Tony cupped his cheek and smiled, his chest tight. “Goodbye, Peter.”

Getting into his car and driving away was perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. The game was over, their deal complete - if John wanted more, he could have taken Tony up on his offer, could have said something before he drove off, but he didn’t. He tried not to feel heartbroken about that, and instead focus on the high of knowing he fulfilled someone’s kink to the best of his ability, even though, deep down, he had accidentally fallen for that person and felt hurt his affection wasn’t returned.

And yet. Knowing John, he wouldn’t break character for anything, not if the last few weeks had been any indication. Maybe he was just waiting for the scene to fully end, so he could drop the role and reach out? It was a slim chance, but Tony was hopeful enough to take it, and he excitedly pulled off to the side of the road and grabbed his phone.

He hadn’t checked his messages once since the game started, so he wasn’t surprised to see he had dozens. But he _was_ surprised that so many of them were from John, his heart filling with hope at first when he saw them, and then, very, very quickly, turning to stone cold dread.

The first text read, “Where are you? I thought you said you were waiting for me.” The next, “I’m near the bus stop on Route 12.” There were a few more messages of the same caliber, all inquiring into Tony’s whereabouts, before they became angry in nature. “You asshole. Now you’re just ghosting on me? Who the fuck do you think you are?” Message after message, calling him out, telling him he wasn’t shit, that he was a shitty dom who couldn’t commit to vanilla sex, much less BDSM kink. But the final and worst message, by far, was a sickening and heart-stabbing: “Fuck you, dipshit. You missed out on _this._ ” With a selfie attached, a selfie of a tall and freckled brunette _man_ who was definitely, absolutely, _not Peter._

Tony dropped his phone as the horror of what he’d done crashed over him. Peter was real. All of this, these last few weeks, everything he’d done, was _real,_ to an actual _kid,_ an innocent person who didn’t use his safeword because he didn’t fucking _have one._

Guilt descended on Tony with a vengeance. He was consumed with self-hatred, but more than that, he had to make this right, he had to fix this somehow. He ripped the car off the side of the road and spun it around, speeding back to the spot where he left Peter, his mind in chaos. The boy must be gone by now, either back home or to the police, but he had to try. He had to at least give it a shot.

He wasn’t sure what came first, the relief or the guilt, when he turned the corner and saw Peter sitting there, on the side of the road, waiting for him. The kid looked absolutely lost, his gaze fixed on the road in front of him, not reacting at all until Tony stopped the car on the side of the road directly in his line of sight.

Tony’s chest tightened when Peter bolted to his feet, his eyes wide, his lips quivering tearfully. An undeniably _hopeful_ expression filled his face, and he tentatively took a step forward, not looking away from Tony for even a micro-second.

He looked the boy up and down and didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, he owed it to the kid to take him to a hospital and then turn himself in to the authorities. On the other… Peter was _happy_ to see him, and as sick as it was, Tony had spent the last few weeks very deliberately _brainwashing_ the kid into thinking he belonged to Tony. That kind of trauma and abuse would take years to overcome, if it ever happened at all, and it was Tony’s fault.

He knew what he was going to do before he even reached over and pushed the door open. He couldn’t take back the torture he’d inflicted on Peter, but he could still turn this around, he was sure. He could make it up to him by showering the boy in all the love and affection he deserved, spoiling him rotten while letting him keep his place as Tony’s devoted toy.

He just never needed to know that to Tony, he’d be a lot more than that.

Peter didn’t move as the door opened, still watching Tony with wide, hopeful eyes. Tony leaned across the gearshift and fixed the boy with his best commanding stare, leaving no room for argument as he ordered, “Come here, pet.”

The overjoyed, beaming smile he got in return was all the proof Tony needed that this was the right thing.


End file.
